Art Pact 5
Almost as soon as the bullet was a bullet, it wasn't one again. The spinner's high-pitched whine was for an instant eclipsed by a raucous yell from the front of the gun, and then a section of crenellation in the battlements above exploded into a cloud of dust and shrapnel, some of which rained harmlessly down onto the infantrymen on their scaling ladders.
To Landon's right, the warlord was dancing from one leg to another, beaming with glee. The little man could barely contain himself, yelling in his gibberish language and patting the spinner as if it were some kind of animal. When he saw Landon looking at him he clapped his hands together in the eager gesture that Landon had come to understand as approval. In the waning light, the man's skin looked almost luminescent.
"Give it a moment," Landon told him. "It'll make another in a minute."
He wondered whether it was worth adjusting the spinner's motor - its dial was reporting plenty of metal in the ground below, it could probably be generating a bullet once every five or six seconds. But no, better to keep that knowledge away from the warlord at the moment. It might come in handy later. Landon adjusted the aim, picking an unblemished crenellation for the next shot while the spinner created it.
"I could shoot out a tower," suggested the gun. Landon shook his head subtly. "Well, just so it's out there. I could take out the doors, how about that?"
"No," Landon told it. He looked carefully at the warlord, still prancing around in glee. If the little man worked out that the weapon's beeps weren't just random machine noises but a way of communicating, would he be clever enough to eavesdrop? He'd have to understand the beep language first, and despite being quite shrewd in certain matters, the warlord did not strike Landon as accomplished academically or linguistically. His son, on the other hand - that one was likely to be trouble.
"How about those guys with the - what are those, blunderbusses? Ha ha ha!"
"Shut up," Landon hissed. "Or I'll put your inhibitor on."
"Fine, fine," sulked the gun.
"It's an arquebus, anyway," he said, squinting up at the thing on the battlements. Two men struggled with the unwieldy tube, trying to get it into position. Then there was a puff of smoke, and Landon mimed looking around to see where the shot went, while the gun went off again and blew up another piece of the castle.
"Lucky escape!" Landon told the warlord in the man's own language. He looked around again for the arquebus's bullet, until the warlord too began to search for it. While his attention was distracted, Landon carefully reached up to his chest plate and pulled out the round lump of lead embedded there, flicking it out and to the side. "Do another bit of the battlements," he told the gun. "Don't hurt anyone."
"Gotcha."
When the weapon roared again, Landon made a big show of locating the cold shot, handing it to the warlord and gesturing to where he had dropped it.
"Terrible shots!" He said, nodding. The warlord nodded back.
"Terrible!"
The defenders were beginning to shun the upper catwalk now, warned off by the frequent disappearances of chunks of rock there, but with the exception of the two-man arquebus team Landon did not think that they had necessarily connected him and the spinner-gun with the wreckage being made of their castle. The fire-team had scuttled away, scared off by the warlord's crossbow men, and over the next few minutes Landon and the gun between them cleaned the battlements down to a flat surface, leaving nowhere for the defenders to hide except in the corner towers.
"Very little left up there," the gun told him. "Go on, give us a crack at the door. There's no-one behind it, I swear. I can have the hinges off."
The warlord also gestured at the door, and for a sickly second Landon thought that he might have understood the gun's request. But he reassured himself that it was just coincidence - two things that liked destruction both working out at the same time the next logical action. If the warlord got inside, things would be over too quickly. He needed to buy some time for the defenders.
"No," he said, then repeated it in the warlord's tongue. "No. We need them softened up a bit. They're scared now, they can't do anything to us. We should sit here for a bit"--the warlord looked agitated--"just a bit! It doesn't do to look too eager, remember? People will fear you more the more effortless your conquests look."
The little man nodded. He looked reluctant, but Landon knew that once he had agreed to something, he would stick to it for a little while at least.
Landon looked back at the castle, wondering how Joseph was doing inside.
To Landon's right, the warlord was dancing from one leg to another, beaming with glee. The little man could barely contain himself, yelling in his gibberish language and patting the spinner as if it were some kind of animal. When he saw Landon looking at him he clapped his hands together in the eager gesture that Landon had come to understand as approval. In the waning light, the man's skin looked almost luminescent.
"Give it a moment," Landon told him. "It'll make another in a minute."
He wondered whether it was worth adjusting the spinner's motor - its dial was reporting plenty of metal in the ground below, it could probably be generating a bullet once every five or six seconds. But no, better to keep that knowledge away from the warlord at the moment. It might come in handy later. Landon adjusted the aim, picking an unblemished crenellation for the next shot while the spinner created it.
"I could shoot out a tower," suggested the gun. Landon shook his head subtly. "Well, just so it's out there. I could take out the doors, how about that?"
"No," Landon told it. He looked carefully at the warlord, still prancing around in glee. If the little man worked out that the weapon's beeps weren't just random machine noises but a way of communicating, would he be clever enough to eavesdrop? He'd have to understand the beep language first, and despite being quite shrewd in certain matters, the warlord did not strike Landon as accomplished academically or linguistically. His son, on the other hand - that one was likely to be trouble.
"How about those guys with the - what are those, blunderbusses? Ha ha ha!"
"Shut up," Landon hissed. "Or I'll put your inhibitor on."
"Fine, fine," sulked the gun.
"It's an arquebus, anyway," he said, squinting up at the thing on the battlements. Two men struggled with the unwieldy tube, trying to get it into position. Then there was a puff of smoke, and Landon mimed looking around to see where the shot went, while the gun went off again and blew up another piece of the castle.
"Lucky escape!" Landon told the warlord in the man's own language. He looked around again for the arquebus's bullet, until the warlord too began to search for it. While his attention was distracted, Landon carefully reached up to his chest plate and pulled out the round lump of lead embedded there, flicking it out and to the side. "Do another bit of the battlements," he told the gun. "Don't hurt anyone."
"Gotcha."
When the weapon roared again, Landon made a big show of locating the cold shot, handing it to the warlord and gesturing to where he had dropped it.
"Terrible shots!" He said, nodding. The warlord nodded back.
"Terrible!"
The defenders were beginning to shun the upper catwalk now, warned off by the frequent disappearances of chunks of rock there, but with the exception of the two-man arquebus team Landon did not think that they had necessarily connected him and the spinner-gun with the wreckage being made of their castle. The fire-team had scuttled away, scared off by the warlord's crossbow men, and over the next few minutes Landon and the gun between them cleaned the battlements down to a flat surface, leaving nowhere for the defenders to hide except in the corner towers.
"Very little left up there," the gun told him. "Go on, give us a crack at the door. There's no-one behind it, I swear. I can have the hinges off."
The warlord also gestured at the door, and for a sickly second Landon thought that he might have understood the gun's request. But he reassured himself that it was just coincidence - two things that liked destruction both working out at the same time the next logical action. If the warlord got inside, things would be over too quickly. He needed to buy some time for the defenders.
"No," he said, then repeated it in the warlord's tongue. "No. We need them softened up a bit. They're scared now, they can't do anything to us. We should sit here for a bit"--the warlord looked agitated--"just a bit! It doesn't do to look too eager, remember? People will fear you more the more effortless your conquests look."
The little man nodded. He looked reluctant, but Landon knew that once he had agreed to something, he would stick to it for a little while at least.
Landon looked back at the castle, wondering how Joseph was doing inside.
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